The Boy in the Corner
by ChubbyCubby23
Summary: Arthur Kirkland and Francis Bonnefoy have been in a relationship for five years now, but something is still missing in their lives. One day, after baby-sitting his sister's adopted children, Alfred and Matthew, Arthur is suddenly struck by what they're missing: a child. And so, after checking out what felt like hundreds of orphanages, Arthur and Francis find themselves in Russia...
1. You Take My Breath Away

"Yes, we just got into our hotel room...No, we did _not_ need a translator, Abigail*! We're not completely inept, mind you, and a good amount of the people here in the city can speak passing English," Arthur huffed into his phone, wearily placing his bags and other luggage on the bed to be sorted out later.

Francis gave his stressed partner a sympathetic smile, kissing him on the cheek and squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. He had received a similar check-up call from his own family, though he would consider it to have been more of a good luck call than anything else. He knew that Arthur's family was much more protective than Francis' own, and he had learned to tell the difference between when they were being serious and when they were being guardedly encouraging. Though he couldn't hear all of the conversation, he figured that now was one of those strange, Kirkland family style forms of encouragement - Arthur clearly wasn't agitated enough for it to be otherwise.

Both families had been very active in helping Arthur and Francis when the couple announced their plans to adopt, doing whatever they could to help ease the stress of the adoption process. They helped look into adoption laws, different orphanages and websites, and were always there for moral support. It was actually more than the two had expected from their families, seeing as how they had shocked everyone by revealing their relationship together. But it seemed that their families had moved on and accepted their life choices, embracing them for who they were as individuals and as a part of the family.

"Of course we packed for the weather! It's bloody _Russia_, for goodness sake, who doesn't take the blasted weather into consideration?!" Arthur burst out indignantly, stomping into the bathroom and slamming the door shut.

Francis sighed and shook his head, shuffling over to the bed as he shrugged off his heavy winter jacket. He folded up the puffy, blue jacket and started to unpack their luggage. Doing chores such as cooking, cleaning, or folding the laundry always helped Francis calm down from a stressful situation. He knew that Arthur was feeling a bit nervous right now - his temper was a clear indicator of his feelings and stress levels - and Francis didn't want Arthur to see how anxious _he_ was starting to get himself.

When Arthur had first come to him with the suggestion of having children, Francis had been absolutely ecstatic about the idea. He had looked into all of the ways that they could have biological children of their own, but Arthur had stopped him and brought up adoption instead.

Francis would admit to some disappointment at not having children that were related to either of them, but he understood that this was important to his partner. Arthur's sister had adopted two boys from America and Canada three years ago, and he loved Alfred and Matthew as if they were his own flesh and blood.

Francis had eventually caved in to Arthur's stalwart stance on adopting a child, despite his own desires. He had this gnawing fear that he wouldn't be able to connect with an adopted child as opposed to a biological one, but he couldn't bring himself to share his anxiousness with Arthur, just in case it made him second-guess their decision to do this.

The wavy haired blonde glanced up from unpacking when he heard the bathroom door creak open, Arthur stepping back into the main part of the hotel room.

Arthur cleared his throat, and said in a tired voice, "Sorry about that...You know how Abigail can get."

"It's no trouble, mon amour*; I have long since become accustomed to your family and its strange ways," Francis chuckled, patting the now cleared space on the bed next to him.

"Like your family is so easy to get used to," Arthur huffed, collapsing onto the bed.

"At least they are not as repressed as the majority of yours," Francis scoffed, laying down so that he was side-by-side with the other blonde. He ignored the fact that he was lying on top of some of their clothes, several buttons and zippers making it just a bit uncomfortable. "How are you doing?" he murmured, turning onto his side so that he could face the Brit.

"What? _Why_?" Arthur asked in return, sounding a bit defensive.

Francis blinked, surprised by the other's tone of voice. "I was just asking how you are, no need to get all up in arms," he said, giving a confused look at the Englishman, hoping for an explanation for his behavior. Feeling slightly miffed, Francis got up and continued to sort out their clothes and put them away.

Ten minutes passed before Arthur finally spoke up again, just as Francis had out away the last article of clothing. "What if...What if they don't like me?" Arthur asked in a soft voice.

The Frenchman froze at hearing his own fears repeated back to him, shocked that Arthur was talking like this.

Arthur had been so set on adopting, so _sure_ that it was the right decision, that Francis had been amazed by his stoic resolve in doing so. The Brit had been nothing but confident throughout this whole pre-adoption process, had Francis really been so absorbed in his own problems that he couldn't even notice his partner's anxiety?

"W-What do you mean, cher*?" Francis asked, gulping as he turned around to face the golden blonde.

Arthur scowled as he sat up, muttering out, "You _know_ what I mean, Francis."

Francis let out a shaky sigh, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt cuffs. "Any child we adopt will love you, Arthur; you are always so good with children! Honestly, I'm more concerned about how they will react to _me_...I don't have much experience with children at all, how do I know I won't screw up and make them hate me?" he asked in a low tone.

"What? Francis, Alfred and Matthew love it when you can play with them! Why wouldn't any child we adopt feel the same way? You're amazing with kids, you'll be a great father. I'm not fun like you are, Francis," Arthur replied, giving his partner a small smile.

The two laughed a bit once they had voiced their worries to each other, both reassuring the other that everything would work out in the end.

"Well, it appears that we were both worrying rather needlessly, hm? It seems that, if we work together, we'll be able to bumble our way through parenthood just fine," Arthur chuckled, his face brightening considerably.

Francis slipped back onto the bed next to his lover, cuddling close to the Englishman. "Oui*, it seems almost silly now. We could see the fine-points of each other, but not in ourselves," he murmured, wrapping his arms around Arthur's lean waist and resting his stubbled chin in the crook of the other man's left arm.

Arthur let out a relieved breath, raising his unoccupied arm up to check his watch. "We should get to bed, Foxtail*, otherwise we'll sleep right through our appointment at the orphanage tomorrow," he sighed, feeling loathe to end this comfortable moment.

Francis pouted, dragging the other man down next to him and nuzzling into his neck. "Mm...Let's stay like this for a little while longer," he hummed, kissing the other's cheek.

Arthur didn't put up any resistance, allowing himself to be pulled down and cuddled. As he closed his tired eyes and relaxed into the soft mattress, the sounds of nighttime city traffic making its way to his ears in the quiet of the room, he couldn't help but feel excited and optimistic for the day to come.

* * *

"Alright, this is the place," Arthur said, nervous excitement tinting his voice.

The two got out of their rented car, walking up to the slightly imposing building through the snow. The orphanage was housed in a blank, blocky, Soviet-era building; it had large steps before the door, and a rusted, iron gate out front. The neighborhood was rather dreary, everything seeming to be dull and gray.

"Well...are you ready, mon amour?" Francis hummed in the Englishman's ear, his hand resting on the gate's latch.

"Yes, absolutely," Arthur answered with confidence, reaching out to take Francis' other hand in his own.

Francis smiled at the contact, and opened the metal gate. He led them up the steps and to the heavy, wooden door, making sure to be careful of the slushy snow that remained on the steps. Both men sighed a bit as they entered the warm building, the heat feeling exquisite against their chilled faces.

"Oh, hello!" a cheery, but heavily accented, voice greeted them as they came through the door, a woman coming over to them from behind a desk. "How may I help you?" she asked, helping them with their heavy coats.

"We had a meeting with one of the adoption counselors today, at one-thirty?" Arthur said, glancing at his watch to make sure they were on time.

The young woman blinked several times, going back over to her large desk and fiddling around with the computer for a brief moment. "Ah, yes! You are Mr. Kirkland and Mr. Bonnefoy?" she asked, smiling at the two.

"Oui, that is us," Francis confirmed, taking off his light brown gloves and stuffing them into one of his coat pockets before hanging it up on the coat rack.

"Ah, I am sorry for not remembering your appointment right away...I have not been working here for very long, and I'm still getting used to everything," the woman explained in a somewhat sheepish tone, motioning for the two men to follow her into another room.

The sounds of other adult voices drifted to their ears as they walked down a happily painted hallway, but those were barely heard over the various noises of children. Cries for attention in both English and Russian, happy little squeals, and peals of childish laughter burst out loudly as they entered a large playroom filled with children and other possible adoptive parents.

"You may interact with the children, while I go inform Mr. Kalikoff of your arrival," the secretary woman said cheerfully, heading back the way they had just come.

Arthur and Francis glanced at each other for a moment, both a little unsure about how to proceed. This was actually the first orphanage that they had physically visited, having only explored others through their websites or over the phone.

"Ahem...Well, I suppose we should...start interacting?" Arthur said in a questioning tone, his green eyes drifting about the colorful playroom as he watched the children run about from thing to thing.

"Oui," Francis replied in a soft voice, his blue eyes sparkling. "They are all so adorable, non*?"

"Mm, yes," Arthur murmured absent-mindedly, his gaze moving to a corner of the room that was mostly devoid of child activity - except for one boy playing by himself with an old teddy bear in a pile of cozy-looking blankets. He was about to suggest that they go over and talk with the boy in the corner, since something about the boy just drew Arthur in, but Francis had already gone off to braid the hair of a couple of young girls.

Arthur felt a small smile work its way onto his face as he watched his partner play with the group of little girls, finding the scene to be something that looked so natural for the Frenchman. Instead of going over and interrupting Francis' moment with the children, he decided to approach the lone boy by himself.

"Uh...Hello, there," Arthur greeted, clearing his throat and adjusting his checkered necktie out of nervous habit.

The boy let out a surprised squeak, and twisted around in his sitting position on the floor to glance at Arthur over his shoulder. He clutched the stuffed bear closer to himself, a bit of white stuffing showing through at a tear near the toy's right leg.

Arthur's eyes widened a fraction as he met the boy's gaze, and he stifled a gasp when he saw that his eyes were a dark shade of purple. "I, uh, sorry to startle you...Erm, is that your teddy bear?" he asked, gesturing toward the worn toy, trying to gloss over the somewhat awkward meeting.

The boy watched with curious eyes as the shaggy haired Brit got down on the carpeted floor, sitting next to the nest of pillows and blankets that he had made for himself. He dropped his gaze to the worn-out stuffed animal in his arms, loosening his protective hold on the toy just a bit.

Arthur glanced around the playroom, idly picking up a toy knight that had been left on the ground; he took note of the bright paint, and the cute cartoon characters from popular Russian kids' shows that were plastered onto the walls. Despite its dreary outside, the orphanage was actually a very nice environment on the inside.

Arthur's attention was once again drawn to the young boy sitting next to him when he felt the child rest his small hand on his leg, purple eyes shifting slowly across green in a shy manner of contact.

"What's your name, lad?" Arthur asked, gasping in surprise when the young child crawled into his lap. When he received no answer, the boy reaching out a pudgy hand to inspect the toy knight Arthur held, he repeated his question in halting Russian.

The boy glanced up from the toy to stare at Arthur suspiciously, remaining silent.

"Mr. Kirkland?" a faintly accented voice coughed from behind the Englishman, a middle-aged man with graying hair shuffling over.

"Ah, yes? I presume that you are Mr. Kalikoff, the adoption counselor I spoke with over the phone?" Arthur said in a faintly questioning tone.

"Indeed, I am," the older man replied, clasping his hands behind his back. His blue-green eyes softened when he took notice of the boy sitting in Arthur's lap. "I see you've met Ivan," he chuckled.

"So that's his name...He wouldn't tell me when I asked him myself," Arthur commented, watching as the young boy clambered out of his lap and back over to his nest of blankets.

"Don't feel too bad about that, he hasn't spoken a word to anyone since he's been here. We were starting to think he was mute, when he first arrived here, but he _can_ speak; he just chooses not to. The only people I've ever witnessed him talking to were his sisters, but they were both adopted not too long after they arrived here," Mr. Kalikoff said in a sad tone, offering his hand to Arthur as he got up from the floor.

"But come, come! There are many other children here to see! They are all very smart, and we teach them English as best we can. Most of our potential adopters do not speak Russian at all, but they know English, so that has always been a focal-point in their education. We have many different ages...," the adoption counselor continued to prattle on about the orphanage and the other children that were available for adoption as he led the Englishman away from the corner.

But, Arthur couldn't focus on what he was being told, his mind wandering back to the purple-eyed boy in the corner.

* * *

"Well, what do you think? Did anyone catch your eye, Lapin*?" Francis asked in an excited tone, leaning in close to his partner.

"Yes, actually...How about you?" Arthur asked in return.

"Ah, they were all so sweet and polite, but I can't really say that I felt any sort of...special connection with any of them," Francis replied, his voice tinged with a bit of disappointment. "But, who is the lucky one of the bunch that caught my Arthur's discerning eye? I'm quite curious."

"Well...His name is Ivan, but that's really all I know about him. The adoption counselor was more keen on flaunting the children he thought were smarter, more well-behaved, or just _better_ in some way. But, Francis, that's not what I want! I don't want some perfect little child that listens to everything I say, gets perfect grades in school, and doesn't act like a child! I want to _parent_, and parenting a child can't be planned out - and it's certainly not _perfect_," Arthur burst out, his brow furrowing.

The Englishman sighed, rubbing at his right temple. "I know that didn't make much sense-"

"Non, non! I understand what you're saying, mon amour!" Francis interrupted, smiling lovingly at his partner. "This little one must be very special for you to be feeling so strongly after just one meeting, Arthur...I can't wait to meet him myself," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the back of Arthur's hand.

Arthur felt a small smile tug at his lips, and he shifted in his seat so that he could nuzzle appreciatively against Francis' neck. "Just wait until you see him, Francis, you'll love him," he said in a soft voice, glancing up when Mr. Kalikoff came back into the room with a handful of papers.

"So, were there any of the children that you wished to meet with again?" the adoption counselor asked, shuffling the papers before setting them down on his desk.

"Yes, actually, there is. Arthur and I were interested in a young boy named Ivan, but I have yet to meet the child," Francis answered in a sunny tone, his excitement palpable.

Mr. Kalikoff looked surprised, blinking rapidly behind his thick reading glasses. "Ivan? Really?" he asked in disbelief. "Are you sure? We have many other children-"

"No, thank you. We've come to our decision on this, and if he's alright with it, we'd very much like to welcome him into our family," Arthur interrupted firmly, glowering at the older man.

"Alright, if that is what you have decided...," Mr. Kalikoff said, opening a drawer in his mahogany desk and searching through it for a while before retrieving a thin file. "This is all the information that we have for Ivan; it isn't much, as you can see. He and his sisters just showed up on our doorstep one day, all three of them covered in cuts, filth, and were under-fed. The eldest of them was only nine at the time, and she could only give us limited information, such as names and ages," he explained, handing over the tan folder. "While you look through that, I'll go fetch Ivan."

The two men nodded in understanding as Mr. Kalikoff left the room, both taking a look at the file they had been given.

"He certainly wasn't lying when he said that there wasn't much in here...," Arthur muttered, quickly scanning over the scant amount of information.

"Born here in Moscow...Six years of age...Has been with the orphanage for three years...So he was only three when he first came here; so young," Francis murmured, his eyes moving on to the picture of the young boy. "Oh, what beautiful eyes! And just look at that sweet face! Are his eyes really such a beautiful shade of royal purple?" he asked in amazement, gushing over the picture.

"Yes, they are. I think it may be caused by ocular albinism," Arthur mused, taping his index finger against his upper lip.

"Sort of like Gilbert, then?" Francis hummed, a fond smile coming to his face at the thought of his old friend.

"Almost. Gilbert is fully albino, whereas I believe this boy's eyes are the only thing affected by the discoloration, not his skin or hair," Arthur replied.

A bout of silence filled the small office as they finished looking over the file, and continued to wait for Kalikoff to return with Ivan.

"Are you excited for this, Francis?" Arthur asked in a hushed voice, his anxious excitement coming through and showing on his face.

"Yes, more than I can even describe...Are you ready for this, Lapin? We're going to be _parents_," Francis breathed out excitedly, his blue eyes twinkling.

Arthur took in a steadying breath before answering," I've been ready for so long...I almost can't believe that it's happening now!"

The couple jumped when the door opened, both having been very involved with each other at the moment.

"Sorry for the wait, Mr. Bonnefoy and Mr. Kirkland. It seems that _someone_ didn't want to share his toy, and got into a fight with some of the other children," Mr. Kalikoff said in a weary, yet very disappointed, tone of voice.

Ivan didn't look up from his feet as he was ushered into the room, his ratty old teddy bear held protectively against his chest. Arthur noticed that the bear's leg - the one that had a tear in it before - was just barely hanging onto the rest of the fuzzy body, more of its cotton innards poking out of the tear.

"We've tried taking that horrid little bear away from him, or replacing it with another one that isn't so worn-out and torn up, but he throws a tantrum and starts crying whenever someone else touches the disgusting little thing. So, we've just allowed him to keep it until he finally outgrows it - which, clearly, hasn't happened yet. He's very possessive of things that he views as his," Kalikoff explained in a slightly frustrated tone.

_Of course he would react like that when you try to force him into giving it up, you imbecile! It's obviously very special to him_, Arthur mentally criticized the other man, barely reigning in his anger before he said what was going through his head out loud.

"Well, it doesn't bother me if he likes it so much; it is _his_ special teddy bear. Besides, Arthur is very handy with a thread and needle, I'm sure he can fix it up in no time," Francis stated in a friendly but firm tone, speaking his mind clearly when he saw his partner bite back his own thoughts on the matter.

Turning his attention to Ivan, who had clambered up onto a vacant chair at a gesture from the adoption counselor, Francis put on his most disarming smile. "Hello, Ivan, my name is Francis. I'm very happy to finally meet you," he said in a slow, almost sweet-talking sort of way; letting his gaze brush across Ivan's purple eyes - which were done little justice by the photo, in Francis' opinion - for a brief moment of contact, not wanting to spook the boy by trying to hold his gaze for too long.

Ivan glanced between the two blonde men for a short moment, then to Kalikoff as he translated what Francis had just said, giving them both a shy wave when he recognized Arthur from earlier in the playroom. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards into a small, shy smile that revealed dimples in his round, rosy-colored cheeks.

Mr. Kalikoff appeared somewhat surprised at this, but a smile came to his weathered face all the same. "I've never seen that boy smile in all the time that he's been here...Most people don't ever give Ivan a second glance, and he does the same in return. I'll admit to being rather taken aback by him acting like this, but that must mean that he truly likes you two," he chuckled softly, searching through the papers on his desk for the forms that they would need to finalize the adoption.

"Wait, before we sign anything...I would like to actually ask the boy if this adoption is something he will be okay with," Arthur interjected, glancing almost coyly at the young Russian child.

Ivan mimicked the expression, shyly burying his chubby face into the faded scarf around his neck and hiding behind his stuffed bear.

Clearing his throat and fussing with his tie again, Arthur asked, "Ivan...How would you like to come live with us in England? It's not terribly far from Russia, and we could even come back for visits...if you'd like."

"Ah, and do not forget about the summers we spend in France with my family! Home-cooked meals every day, gorgeous weather for the beach, and lots of other children your age to play with. My family would love to spoil you when we visited them, and I'm positive they'll love you on sight," Francis added in a cheerful voice.

"Yes, you would have family in both France and England, as well as in Scotland and Ireland. You'll have your own room and toys, anything you could ever need or want," Arthur continued, watching the boy carefully. "After all, you'd be adopting us just as much as we'd be adopting you, and we would never push you into anything you're not ready for yet."

"Do you...understand, Ivan?" Mr. Kalikoff asked, after translating for Arthur and Francis again, leaning forward in his seat to scrutinize the young boy.

The boy looked at the adoption counselor from the corner of his eye, blinking thoughtfully. "Da*...," Ivan replied in a soft voice, hesitating a bit when he spoke.

"Well, then...This is wonderful! It is our goal to see _every_ child into a loving home. Now, we'll need you both to sign some forms, but after that, you can all head home later this afternoon," Kalikoff explained in an exceedingly happy tone, stroking his clipped beard with a hand.

"Of course, let's get on with it," Francis said in an agreeing tone, nodding his head as he shifted forward in his seat to get a better look at the papers.

Arthur felt like he should be paying more attention to what was happening, but he couldn't keep his mind from something more immediate. _I'm going to be a _**parent**_! _**We're** _going to be _**parents**_!_ he thought, not sure if he was feeling excited or nervous - perhaps it was both.

* * *

Let me just start this off by saying that I know absolutely nothing about adopting or the adoption process. I don't even know what it's like where I live, let alone internationally, so take this vague, probably incorrect depiction of adoption with a grain of salt, alright?

As for the actual story, I saw this set-up somewhere on...LiveJournal, I want to say? I thought it sounded cute, so I decided to start writing it out using a year-long prompt book. The book has a different prompt for each day of the month, and I've planned to write it out so that each month corresponds to a year passing in the story. So, by the end of it, I'll have gone through twelve years of Arthur, Francis, and Ivan as an adoptive family.

Abigail: This is Fem!England, and I have her as Arthur's sister in this story. She adopted Alfred and Matthew, as mentioned earlier on in the chapter, and they'll all come into it soon.

Foxtail: I just really liked this as Arthur's pet name for Francis. I like the thought of Arthur being very interested in different types of plants, and using the Foxtail plant's name for Francis in reference to how he sort of got under Arthur's skin when they first met. Also, Francis is quite fox-like, in my opinion; he's sly, suave, and gracefully cunning.

If you see any errors or you want to give your opinion, I'm always open to hearing your thoughts and comments!

Translations for this chapter:

Mon amour: "My love" in French

Cher: "Dear" in French

Oui: "Yes" in French

Non: "No" in French

Lapin: "Bunny" in French

Da: "Yes" in Russian


	2. Just a Mile From Home

After signing all of the adoption papers, and collecting Ivan's things - the boy really didn't have all that much to pack - the three left the orphanage later that day.

Since Ivan only had a few changes of clothes with him, Francis insisted that they go shopping for some before they left. Arthur thought it was rather ridiculous to buy clothes in Russia when they were going back to England in only two more days, but he went along with it anyway, seeing how excited Francis was when he suggested it.

They did a bit of sight-seeing the day before their flight; mostly just walking around the city and window-shopping, though they did pick up several souvenirs for their friends and family.

And while Francis and Arthur constantly tried to talk with Ivan, using both English and their rather limited Russian, he never really spoke back to them. He would give slight gestures of the head, or clumsy hand movements; sometimes making mumbling sounds in what could have been English, Russian, or just nonsense. But, while the boy didn't talk to them yet, Arthur and Francis were ecstatic to find out that he didn't mind holding their hands or being picked up by one of them. It may not seem like much to other people - or even other parents - but to them, it was progress in the right direction.

"How about we get back to the hotel, and get something to eat? It's almost seven now," Arthur said, glancing up from his watch to see Francis holding Ivan up to a store window so that he could look inside, the Frenchman pointing at one thing or another to catch the young boy's attention.

"Hm? Is it that late already?" Francis hummed, looking back over to his partner. "Well, I suppose we should head back, then. Are you hungry, Ivan?" he asked, bouncing the little Russian boy in his arms as he turned away from the storefront.

Ivan nodded slightly, resting his cheek against Francis' shoulder as he twirled a lock of the Frenchman's wavy blonde hair between his pudgy little fingers.

"It's interesting...He seems to understand some phrases of English, but Mr. Kalikoff said that he'd never really gotten the hang of the language while he was at the orphanage," Arthur wondered out loud, bringing a hand up to his chin in thought.

"Well, if you ask me, I wouldn't be too surprised if they just gave up with teaching him, after they didn't see any signs of him learning anything," Francis sniffed, placing Ivan back on the snowy ground, but keeping a firm hold on the boy's gloved hand.

As the three made their way back to the hotel they were staying at, Ivan kicking up snow with his booted feet as they trudged through the icy streets at a pleasant pace, Arthur and Francis couldn't keep the happy smiles off their faces as Ivan tightened his grip on both of their hands while they walked.

* * *

The day of their flight back to England was charged with excitement for both Arthur and Francis; they were finally heading home with Ivan. The entire drive to the airport, Ivan was trying to look out the car window, but he couldn't see much of anything besides the tops of buildings or the gray sky outside.

After returning their rented car to the dealership, muddling through airport security, and dropping off their luggage to be loaded onto the plane, they found some open seats in the terminal and waited to board their flight. Francis had gone off to the restroom after they found a place to sit, so that left Arthur and Ivan by themselves while they waited.

Ivan glanced around the sitting area nervously, edging closer to Arthur as people frantically milled about around them.

Arthur looked away from his phone when he felt the six-year-old bury his face into his side. "Hey...What's the matter?" he asked in a quiet tone, running his fingers through the boy's soft hair.

Ivan whimpered, shifting his face away from Arthur's side to track the strangers that were speeding around the airport with his eyes; purple irises darting back and forth to follow their movements. Hiding his face in Arthur's jacket once again, he clutched at the thick material with his pudgy hands, letting out little whines and whimpers whenever someone walked by or talked too loud near them.

"Shh...It's okay, Ivan," Arthur murmured, glancing around nervously for Francis to come back from the restroom. Arthur considered Francis to be much more adept at comfort and coddling than he was, so he felt rather out of his depth right now.

Arthur thought that Ivan was okay after the boy pulled away from him, but then he burst out crying.

"Ivan...Ivan, shh," Arthur tried to hush the sobbing child, his eyes going wide as he struggled to calm the boy. He winced when the boy didn't let up, people around them starting to give Arthur dirty looks.

"Arthur, what's wrong? Why is Ivan crying?" Francis asked in a worried voice, rushing over to his frazzled partner.

"I-I don't _know_! I...I think that all the people, all the noise, is scaring him," Arthur answered in a shaky voice, sounding close to tears himself.

Francis quickly gathered the bawling child into his arms, sitting down so that he could set Ivan on his lap. "Hush, mon petit Armel*," he hummed in a calm, soothing tone, rubbing circles into the boy's back as he slowly rocked from side-to-side.

After several minutes of Francis' soothing administrations, Ivan's crying subsided into the occasional sniffle or hiccup. Arthur would admit to feeling a little envious of his partner for being able to calm Ivan down and stop his crying so easily while he could not, but that feeling quickly dissipated when Francis transferred Ivan into his lap, an encouraging smile on his face.

"Well, he's calmed down a bit, but I don't know if he'll stay like this. Why don't you read to him, Arthur? Keep him preoccupied, so he doesn't notice the crowds of people and the noise as much," Francis suggested, fishing through one of their carry-on bags for a children's book that they had brought prior to the adoption.

"But this is in _English_, Francis...He might not understand what I'm saying," Arthur groused. He stared at the soft, water-color illustration - which was of a toddler holding a puppy on the cover - like someone had just sneezed on his hand and walked off without a word.

"That is no matter; he will learn in time. The point right now is for him to hear our voices, to hear us talking to him, so that he will find them comforting," Francis said, running his thumb over Ivan's flushed cheeks to wipe away stray tears on the boy's face. "We may legally be his parents now, but we're still strangers to him."

Arthur sighed, opening to the first page of the book. "Hmph...When did you suddenly become smarter than me?" he asked, a sly smile on his face.

"Oh, I'm not smarter than you, mon cher; I just wanted to hear your sexy reading voice," Francis laughed, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"This is a children's book about a boy and his puppy, not one of your skeevy romance novels!" Arthur huffed.

"But you love my skeevy romance novels!" Francis cried in a wounded tone, the bright smile on his face showing that he took no real offense to what his partner said.

Arthur promptly ignored the wavy haired Frenchman, a light blush on his face, as Ivan took an interest in the book's illustrations. Clearing his throat, he began reciting the simplistic text from off the pages in a soft voice.

* * *

Both Arthur and Francis were relieved that Ivan slept through the flight, as they figured it would have been very stressful for him. After Arthur had finished reading the book to Ivan, the six-year-old had fallen asleep right on the spot; he didn't even twitch when it was announced over the intercom that the plane was ready to board - Arthur carefully rising from his seat, so that he didn't disturb the sleeping child in his arms, as Francis gathered their bags.

It didn't take all that long for them to adjust back to London's time zone - London was only three hours behind Moscow, after all - but Ivan was dead tired, since it still felt like nine PM to him.

Once they had touched down on the tarmac and exited the stuffy plane, they wandered around until they found the baggage claim; it took over a half hour to locate all their luggage. Finally ready to leave the airport, the two men somehow managed to muddle all of their bags and suitcases out to the airport parking lot, where their car was parked not too far away. Ivan, blessedly, remained asleep despite all the jarring movement that occurred when Francis and Arthur were packing everything back into the car.

"I can't wait to sleep in our own bed tonight!" Francis murmured, smiling lazily at his partner.

"Mm...I know. It's just not the same, sleeping in a bed that's not your own," Arthur agreed whole-heartedly, turning onto their street. It was a little over a half hour drive from Greater London to where they lived, which was in the London Borough of Waltham Forest. "Hm? What the bollocks is going on up there?" he wondered out loud, bringing the car to a stop at the roadblock that had been set up.

A worker in a yellow vest walked up to the car, motioning for Arthur to roll down his window. "Sorry, folks, this road's closed off; water main break. It's not too bad, but it _will_ take several hours to fix," the man said through a bushy mustache, shrugging his shoulders.

Arthur sighed in frustration, leaning his forehead against the steering wheel. "I'm _not_ staying in another bloody hotel," he muttered.

"We can wait for them to finish, we're not in any rush. Why don't we go out for a treat? Something sweet, oui?" Francis suggested in an understanding tone, patting Arthur on the back. "Oh! How about we go to _'Grandpa Rome's Gelato'_?" he hummed, his ocean blue eyes sparkling with fondness.

"I suppose we may as well...We won't be getting home for a few hours, at best," Arthur sighed, turning the car around and heading back down the road.

* * *

Crispus Vargas* turned around at the sound of the door opening, a cheery little tune following the footsteps of his customers. "Ciao*! What can I get for you?" he asked automatically, his face lighting up when he saw who had walked into his shop. "Francis! Arthur! It's been too long!" he exclaimed, grinning.

"Yes, it has been a while, hasn't it?" Francis laughed, briefly embracing the older man over the counter.

"The last time we came in here was when we were baby-sitting Alfred and Matthew, and that must have been several months ago now," Arthur chimed in.

"Ah, yes! The little rascals that your sister adopted, right? They were such nice little boys; you'll have to bring them by again sometime soon for more of my gelato, no?" the Italian man laughed.

"Ah, but we have someone else whom we'd like to introduce to your amazing gelato!" Francis said excitedly, gesturing to a very sleepy looking Ivan.

"Oh, bambino*! He's so grazioso*, I wish my grandsons were still this adorable and cuddly - well, Feliciano is, but Lovino...Not so much," Crispus sighed nostalgically, walking around the shiny, faux marble counter to sit on one of the high stools. "I remember hearing that you two were looking into adoption; I'm so happy that it worked out!"

"This," Arthur murmured, "is Ivan. I'm afraid he's still on Moscow time, so he's rather tuckered out right now." Sitting down in an open chair, Arthur chuckled when Ivan struggled to suppress a yawn, his dark purple eyes fluttering closed as he did so.

"So, you went all the way to Russia for him? Now, that's what I call devotion! You appreciate it, ragazzino*," Crispus laughed heartily, ruffling the drowsy boy's velvety beige hair. "So, how did you find out about him? Was his picture on a website or something?" he asked, curious to hear the whole story.

"No, although we did look into several websites," Francis hummed, smiling down at his partner and newly adopted son. "We actually made contact with an orphanage and set up an appointment to come in, then we flew over to Moscow in the next week. We were introduced to the children, and allowed to interact with them. Arthur was the one who noticed Ivan, and it was love at first sight for the both of us," he continued.

Crispus nodded his understanding. "Ah, so it was just meant to be! I love it when these kinds of stories end like that," the Italian sighed dreamily, his honey brown eyes sparkling. "Parenthood certainly suits you two," he added, smiling knowingly at the couple.

"Well, it's barely even been forty-eight hours yet...but I'm inclined to agree with you," Arthur murmured in an amused tone, placing his hands on Ivan's sides when the boy started to squirm in his lap.

To his surprise, Ivan _giggled_.

"Hm?" The noise caught all three adults' attention, their eyes shifting to the little boy.

"Aw, that is so cute! He's ticklish," Crispus chortled, the first to recover from the unexpected burst of laughter. "Isn't the laughter of children the sweetest thing in the world?" he cooed, leaning over and making silly faces at the young Russian.

"Yes, it is," Arthur agreed in a soft voice, his eyes moving up to meet Francis'.

"Oh, how silly of me to forget! You came in here for some gelato, no?" Crispus suddenly exclaimed, the older man jumping up from his seat and dashing back behind the counter. "Now, what can I get you, boys?" he asked, brandishing a scoop.

"You like the lemon flavor, right, lapin?" Francis hummed, browsing through the choices.

"Yes, that sounds lovely. It's been so long since I've had any of your gelato, having an old favorite will be quite the treat," Arthur said, resisting the curious urge he had to tickle Ivan again, just to see if the boy would laugh like he did before.

"I think I'll have the vanilla," Francis decided, nodding his head with a sure look on his face.

"Good choices! And what can I get for the little guy?" Crispus asked, scooping out the lemon and vanilla flavored gelato into two separate Styrofoam containers.

Arthur softly spoke into the child's ear, asking in very simple and heavily accented Russian what he would like.

Ivan blinked his eyes sleepily at the question, sliding off of Arthur's lap to go investigate what was being offered to him. The freezer that the gelato was stored in was at a low enough level that he could see the different containers, but he couldn't read the labels. Puffing his chubby cheeks out like a frustrated chipmunk, Ivan glanced back at his adoptive parents for help.

Arthur got up from his chair when he saw the look of uncertainty and frustrated confusion on the little boy's face, placing a hand on Ivan's shoulder as he knelt down to his level. "Right, I forgot that you can't read English yet...," he sighed, feeling slightly embarrassed at having forgotten. "Can we get some taste-tests, Crispus?" he asked.

"It would be my pleasure!" the brunet burst out happily, grabbing a little plastic spoon from a cup on the counter. He scooped a small amount of strawberry gelato onto the red spoon before handing it over to the young child, an expectant look on his aging face.

After trying every available flavor - much to Crispus' delight and insistence, the old Italian simply _loved_ spoiling children - Ivan finally seemed to settle on the cinnamon flavor. Francis took out his wallet to pay for the frozen deserts, but Crispus stopped him.

"No, no; you don't have to pay for this, it's on the house," he said smiling brightly. "I just expect you to stop by for more visits, especially since you have such a cute little guy to spoil rotten now!" he added, laughing jovially as he gave the Frenchman a wink.

"Of course, thank you," Francis chuckled, putting some money in the tip jar instead. "I'm quite positive that you'll be seeing more of us in the future; Ivan seems to be enjoying your gelato very much, Crispus," he commented, watching in amusement as Ivan licked out the melted remnants of his treat from the white Styrofoam cup, getting more on his face than in his mouth.

The three adults chatted for a while longer after that, catching each other up on their respective families, friends, and lives. Ivan soon fell asleep once more as minutes rolled into hours, and the elaborately carved cuckoo clock on the wall peeped out the late time of midnight.

"Bloody 'ell...Is it really that late?" Arthur asked through a yawn, stretching as he stiffly rose from his seat.

"Oui...We should be getting home now, I think. Someone's already toddled off to dreamland without us," Francis replied in a hushed voice, carefully gathering up a soundly sleeping Ivan into his arms. "The roads should be clear by now."

"Ah, yes, I suppose I should close up shop and head home as well. It was wonderful seeing you both again, and it was a pleasure to meet your new family addition, too!" Crispus chirped, "Don't be strangers, you hear?"

The older man whistled to himself as he closed up his shop, saying his goodbyes to Francis and Arthur as they left with their sleeping child.

* * *

"Ah...We're finally home," Francis sighed contentedly, taking in a deep breath as they quietly shuffled into their Victorian-style townhouse.

Dumping their bags and suitcases on the floor by the front door - which wasn't something they usually did, but it was late and they were all tired - Arthur and Francis wearily made their way into their bedroom.

"He's already fast asleep, and I don't have the heart to wake him up and have him brush his teeth, so I'm just going to put him down for the night in the other room," the Frenchman murmured in a soft voice, brushing the boy's cheek with his thumb.

"Wait, Francis...Can't he sleep here with us? I don't want him waking up to a strange and unfamiliar place without us being right there for him. Only for the night, Francis, I promise," Arthur pleaded, already getting out a set of pajamas for Ivan to change into.

Francis smiled softly at that, sitting down on the edge of the immaculately made bed. "I don't mind if it's for a couple of weeks - or even a couple of months! I want this to be as smooth a transition as possible for Ivan," he said, helping his partner as they carefully changed the heavily sleeping child out of his clothes and into the bear motif pajamas they had bought for him.

After doing that and tucking Ivan in, they both changed out of their own clothes and brushed their teeth. Pulling back the bed covers and settling down onto the mattress, Arthur and Francis slowly drifted off into a calming sleep, Ivan curled up in between them.

* * *

It took me a while to look up all the different districts of London, the distance between Greater London and the district I chose for them to live in, and the style of houses there were exactly where they lived in Weltham Forest. So. Appreciate it.

And, yes, I imagine Ivan being a little piggy when he was a kid. Poor Arthur and Francis...They'll have to teach him proper table manners.

Crispus Vargas: I think it's pretty easy to guess who this is, but, for those who don't know, this is Ancient Rome/Roman Empire. His name means "curly-haired" in Latin, which I thought fit him quite well.

Translations for this chapter:

Mon petit Armel: "My little Bear Prince" in French

Ciao: "Hello" in Italian

Bambino: "Baby, infant - of either sex" in Italian

Grazioso: "Cute" in Italian

Ragazzino: "Kid, young boy" in Italian


	3. A Kiss Goodnight

It had been a week since Arthur and Francis had traveled to Russia and adopted Ivan, returning to the UK as a new family. They had discovered early on that there was quite a learning curve to parenting a child that could only understand simple phrases outside of his native language, and rarely spoke at all - be it in English or Russian.

But, Arthur and Francis were determined to learn all of Ivan's little quirks, and how to deal with them. It had only been a week so far, but their efforts were starting to show results.

They discovered that Ivan was rather fond of nature and the outdoors, especially when animals or flowers were involved. He didn't like to sleep on his own, not unless he had lots of warm blankets and fluffy pillows to burrow under on the bed with him. And, while he wasn't very fond of spicy or sour foods, he would happily eat whatever was put in front of him at mealtimes.

Something important they had found out very quickly was that Ivan had a near-paralyzing fear of water, which made giving him a bath quite an ordeal. When Francis had first drawn a bath for Ivan, the poor boy had frozen up, stiff as a board; his eyes were wide with terror, fixed on the steady stream of hot water pouring from the tap. When the tub was filled about halfway, Francis shut the water off and turned around to help Ivan out of his clothes and into the tub, but the terrified boy had already bolted from the room.

It took them nearly an hour to calm Ivan down, and it was even longer before they got him in for a bath. Arthur had gone into the tub with Ivan to reassure him that it was okay, and the little boy had clung onto him with such desperation that he left small bruises on Arthur's arms.

Both adoptive parents were struggling with teaching Ivan English, but they had learned to recognize some of his non-verbal forms of communication. He was surprisingly fond of physical contact, and would often utilize touch to get their attention. He would stare at things that he wanted but couldn't get himself, waiting patiently until one of his parents picked up on the hint and got it for him.

And while Ivan had yet to say anything to them outside of a few mumbly sentences in Russian, Arthur and Francis could tell that he _was_ trying to learn; he would just get frustrated when it didn't make any sense to him, or he couldn't get a word to come out sounding like it should.

Since Francis was a writer, and didn't have to physically go into work, he spent more time at home than Arthur usually did - though the shaggy haired Brit had taken off several weeks from work to stay at home and bond with Ivan. As such, the Frenchman spent most of the day with Ivan when Arthur was away at work.

Arthur was looking into different schools that they could enroll Ivan into, his perfectionism coming through as he researched every school in London before they made a solid decision on one. Though, he would say that he was leaning towards the same school that his sister had enrolled her two boys, Matthew and Alfred, into.

It was an unquestionably happy experience for both Arthur and Francis to be able to play with Ivan and get to know him, and to know that he was happy being a part of their family. Even if he couldn't formulate the words to express himself, his smiles, his laughter, and his contentment while sleeping showed that he was comfortable and happy with them.

* * *

"Alright, I think it's time for bed," Arthur chuckled, picking up a drowsy Ivan from where he was curled up on the sofa.

Ivan let out a low whine in protest, but he merely scrunched up his face and fisted his hand into Arthur's shirt.

"Say goodnight to Papa," Arthur murmured over the soft volume of the television, the credits to the movie they had just finished watching rolling by on screen, bouncing the boy in his arms a bit as Francis made his way over.

"Come here, you cute little ours en peluche*, Papa Francis needs to give you a goodnight kiss!" the wavy haired blonde gushed, kissing the young boy on the cheek as he hummed out a soft "Goodnight".

Ivan squirmed a little at the attention, his eyes blinking sleepily as he rubbed at his cheek.

Francis chuckled at that, ruffling Ivan's hair as Arthur started to walk upstairs and then down the hall to Ivan's room. He followed along quietly, leaning against the door-frame as his partner tucked the boy into bed.

Smoothing down the burgundy colored comforter and placing Ivan's stuffed bear on the pillow next to the boy, Arthur smiled as he brushed his lips against Ivan's forehead in a gentle kiss. "Sweet dreams," he whispered, pulling away slowly.

Before Arthur could get up, though, Ivan hugged his little arms around Arthur's neck and pressed an almost shy kiss to his cheek. And, as abruptly as it had happened, it was over with. Ivan burrowed his way under a multitude of warm blankets and quilts, grabbing his stitched-up teddy bear and curling up in his little den of softness and warmth.

Arthur sat on the edge of the bed, a hand against his cheek in bewilderment. He stared at the little lump in the blankets for a shocked moment, blinking out of his daze when Francis snuck over and sat down next to him.

"He just...gave me a kiss goodnight...," Arthur whispered, his voice holding a note of awe in it.

"Yes, I saw that. It was very sweet," Francis murmured, wrapping his arm around Arthur's slim shoulder's as he leaned in close to his partner. "I wonder which one of his charming parents he learned _that_ from?" he chuckled, nuzzling against Arthur's neck.

Arthur rolled his emerald green eyes at that, curving his neck so that he could return the Frenchman's affections.

The two quietly left their adoptive son's room, both blondes looking back into the dark room for a prolonged moment before closing the door behind them.

No matter what sort of parenthood troubles they were going to face in the future, Arthur would always remember that first goodnight kiss.

* * *

ours en peluche: "Teddy bear" in French


End file.
